


Days of Wine and Roses

by roseandheather



Series: Bittersweet And Strange [8]
Category: Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Barbara and Lynley sort through the repercussions of his six-month drinking binge. Sequel to Intermezzo. Lynley/Havers, pre-romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days of Wine and Roses

"What happened, sir?" she asked him quietly, still gazing at him with an almost unnerving directness. "I thought you'd let me in, after the funeral, but then..."

"I wish I had a good answer for you, Barbara," he said, "but I don't. All I can do is tell you I'm sorry."

"Oh, no," she said firmly. "It's not that easy any more. We're going to get to the bottom of this. You went completely off the rails and I had to stand by and do nothing. No more of that. _Why didn't you let me in?_ " Her voice was unforgiving, unflinching, and he realised with a flash of terror that he had nowhere to hide.

"I..." He fought for the words. How to explain the tearing grief and guilt of the last six months? "I think... perhaps because to let you in would have meant facing what I felt? Or maybe..."

"Maybe," Barbara said softly, "because almost as soon as you began to let Helen back into your life, she was killed right under your nose. And a part of you feels like it's your fault. And that same part of you was terrified that to let me in would mean losing me, too, especially after I got shot."

He stared at her in simple amazement, completely at a loss for words.

"And then," she continued, "you felt so guilty, too - so completely sure her death was your fault - that part of you was sure that if you didn't lose me the way you lost her, you'd lose me because I'd walk away, the way she did once before. Is this sounding familiar yet?"

Still stunned, he just nodded.

"Which," she said, jabbing an emphatic finger in his direction, "you should have known was a load of bunk, because I have been your partner for seven years and I've seen you at your absolute worst and _I'm still here,_ and I am not going anywhere. Ever."

"How did you..." was all he could manage. How did she always see him so clearly?

She smiled, a little sadly. "Seven years, remember? I _know_ you, better than I think you even realise."

"Yes," he said wonderingly, "I believe you do." And he had to laugh and shake his head in amazement. Trust Barbara to eliminate six months of fear in a single stroke! Oh, he knew he'd more to face, knew it wasn't that easy, but if she wasn't going to walk away...

"Not that I'm not still angry," she continued, "because I am. And I'm hurt. I'm really, really hurt, Lynley. But I can't say I don't understand. And if you think I'm leaving you over this, you're mad."

"I really don't deserve you," he breathed, and she smiled.

"You're an idiot," she informed him fondly. "And anyway, it's not like I haven't been a right cow in the past."

"This is true," he agreed, and she narrowed her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue. The sight was so familiar, so _normal,_ he felt a knot in his chest loosen - a knot he hadn't even known was there.

He felt lighter than he had in weeks.

"You really won't..."

" _Never,_ " she swore, and he felt his heart tighten - in gratitude, and in affection for the woman beside him.

"Good," he said, and looked her directly in the eyes. "Because I need you, Barbara, now more than ever."

"Then you've got me," was all she said, the simple words belying the absolute joy in her eyes.

He covered her hand on the table with his own, and no words were needed.

He wasn't alone, not any more.

Barbara stood with him.

~*~

He'd been right that his brief reprieve was only the eye of the storm. He leaned on Barbara more heavily than ever; she submitted without complaint to a new level of overprotectiveness in the field, knowing what was behind it, and she became his constant companion even off duty. He turned up more than once on her doorstep in the middle of the night, unable to bear the memories, and she always let him crash on her sofa, then fed him brandy and listened to him ramble.

If he had ever doubted just how deeply his cranky, fiery, devoted partner cared for him, or how badly he needed her, he certainly didn't any more.


End file.
